


born of the same star

by jaws_3



Series: Sparrow's Story [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, it's like the fluffiest thing I've ever written, roughly covers the beginning of the game to before chrom's marriage so spoilers??? for that I guess, told from Chrom's pov so disaster chrom falling in love, two disaster falling in love, uhhh that's about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 06:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16192232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaws_3/pseuds/jaws_3
Summary: Like most things, their relationship is formed through a series of mishaps. Or, the 26 times Chrom fell in love with Sparrow before he proposed. | a partner fic to A Sparrow's Ballad





	born of the same star

**Author's Note:**

> I asked my roommate for a number (she gave me 26) and when I told her what it was for she just held her head in her hands  
> enjoy!
> 
> also; you don't need to have a read A Sparrow's Ballad for this fic, but you might pick up on other things if you do! ;v;

> **i**

From a distance she looks like a rock. An oddly shaped rock, which is why she catches Chrom’s attention, but a rock nonetheless. When he and Lissa approach her, quickly discovering she is most definitely  _ not _ a rock and very much an unconscious human being, Chrom hastens his steps and they’re soon awkwardly swaying before her collapsed form. 

She’s clothed in a thick, dark purple cloak, one that seems to have been made for a man twice her size, marked with familiar emblems which Chrom frowns at. Part of her face is hidden by her hood but he can still make out the soft pink hair framing her face, the stray pieces standing out against her pale skin. She seems to be unarmed and Chrom feels a small stab of pain when he’s unable to tell is she’s breathing or not. He can’t make out any wounds but they’re quite close to the Plegian border and this wouldn’t be the first causality he’s come across. 

He’s still looking for signs of life when Lissa leans over her and wonders aloud, “Is she dead?” 

She turns to Frederick for an answer, but their guardian is wearing a concerned frown and looking down the road, most likely searching for any bandits that could be close by. Chrom is ready to confirm Lissa’s suspicions when the girl’s right hand twitches and tightens into a fist, her face turning to the side with a small distressed noise.

Lissa gives a small gasp at this before stepping closer, a movement Chrom joins her in. Frederick remains behind them, forever on guard. 

“She’s okay!” Lissa breathes out in relief before a worried pout overtakes her when the girl stills again. “I think. What do you think happened to her?” 

“I don’t know,” Chrom admits. “But it probably had something to do with Plegia. We should be careful moving forward.”

“We’re… we’re not just gonna leave her are we?” Lissa asks and when Chrom doesn’t give a quick enough answer - there is little they  _ could _ do with the girl in her current state, though Chrom doesn’t like the idea of leaving her alone any more than his sister - Lissa gives a loud huff.

“Chrom,” she starts, voice taking a bit of an annoyed tone, “We have to do SOMETHING…”

“What do you propose we do?” Chrom asks with a small sigh. He doesn’t wish to leave her, but he’s worried about the nearby villages and he’s not entirely sure of whether she hails from the Halidom or from Plegia, and whether she is friend or foe. 

“I… I dunno!” Lissa replies, evidently startled at the question but before she can continue, the girl shifts, catching their attention. Relief quickly pools in Chrom’s stomach, despite his earlier hesitancy, and he gives the girl a kind look as she wakes to stare blankly at the two of them, her hood no long shrouding her dark brown eyes as she takes them in. 

“I see you’re awake now,” he says with a small grin - he assumes she had only been sleeping with the dazed look she’s giving them and he doesn’t wish to alarm her - and Lissa chirps in with her own greeting. The girl simply nods, unable to give them any other sort of affirmation that she could hear them. 

“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know.” Chrom teases. “Give me your hand.”

She doesn’t hesitate to take it and when she stands and properly meets his eyes, Chrom feels something click into place. Like an emptiness he had never noticed before was suddenly filled. She’s quite small, hardly reaching his shoulders, but she keeps his gaze firmly, assessing him, and Chrom finds himself unable to look away even when she eventually steps back.  _ She has freckles.  _ He thinks idly and has to stop himself from doing something ridiculous like  _ counting _ them. 

They soon discover she knows  _ his _ name, but little else. While Frederick is skeptical, and quite vocal about it, Chrom finds himself intrigued by her story and decides to take her with them to ensure her own safety, as well as to ensure she isn’t a threat or any sort of runaway criminal. She seems hesitant to accept this treatment, but remains polite through all their interactions which eventually give them her name: Sparrow. 

It sounds out of place for their region, but before any of them can place it, they’re leaving her behind to rush to a burning village’s aid. There’s a quiet pang in Chrom’s chest when he leaves her, but he hardly notices it, much more focused on the brigands howling in laughter farther down the road. Besides, he hardly has the time to mourn her absence before she’s stumbling to his side once more and quickly offering her services in battle. 

Chrom feels himself relax as he accepts her help, even more so when she keeps to his side. (Although, he hesitates - only  _ briefly _ \- when she stares in wonder at the tome she pulls from  _ somewhere _ in her cloak.) It feels as though she is where she is meant to be and Chrom knows she is their friend with the strength she lends. When the battle finishes, he is quick to offer her a position within the Shepherds and she is quick to take it, though Frederick still continues to grumble in the background. 

“Welcome to the team, Sparrow.” Chrom grins at her, ignoring his guardian, and when she smiles back, Chrom knows he’s made the right choice. 

> **ii**

He catches her watching him, a curious expression on her face. She’s an extremely attentive person and Chrom feels as though there is little you could hide from her. And while she’s hardly been with them a day - since she almost always has her eyes on him - Chrom’s already become accustomed to her gaze. He’s surprised he’s not made uncomfortable by it, but all she seems to desire from her observations is an understanding of him which is something the prince has long since learned to live with, having dealt with such looks from the court all his life. 

(“The prince has brought in even  _ more  _ commoners to join his Shepherds? What does he expect to accomplish with people like  _ that _ ?”) 

There is no judgment in Sparrow’s eyes however and so he meets her gaze with a small smile that morphs into a look of embarrassed exasperation when her lips part with a quiet giggle. He had been in the middle of wiping the soot from the early morning fire from his face and apparently they had both noticed around the same time the soft, baby pink frills delicately lining the handkerchief Frederick had given him. While Chrom is appreciative of Frederick’s preparedness that does not mean he is fond of the man’s  _ tastes _ . 

Chrom offers it to her, she’s covered in just as much ash from the fire as he, but she declines and Chrom can’t help the laugh that bubbles from his chest when she instead rubs at her face with her sleeve, succeeding only in smearing the dirt on her even more. A fondness for the girl overtakes him, especially since she seems so pleased with herself, the dark grey smudges rising with her smiling cheeks. 

Chrom laughs even louder when he catches the affronted look Frederick gains when the knight also notices the mess. 

(Sparrow is  _ politely _ encouraged to wash her face first when they reach a stream and Lissa and Chrom both crack up when they notice Frederick having to visibly restrain himself from cleaning Sparrow’s face for her like an overprotective mother cat.)

(Sparrow still leaves with several smudges down her neck but Chrom finds it too cute to bother mentioning it.) 

> **iii**

Since childhood, neither Lissa nor Frederick have ever shared Chrom’s sense of humour. He used to stress about it, until he learned how fun it was to make some sort of terrible pun and wait for the loud groans to come from his usual party. Emmeryn will humour him with a small smile or raised eyebrow, but Frederick and Lissa were always left rolling their eyes or pursing their lips in a very obvious attempt at biting back any sort of discouraging comment. 

Sparrow, it turns out, is different. 

They’re nearing the Longfort when Chrom makes some terrible joke and he doesn’t even bother to look at Lissa or Frederick to know they both wear a similar expression of exasperation but he does find himself turning to stare at Sparrow in unabashed wonder when he hears her start loudly  _ laughing _ . 

Chrom quickly forgets the joke, but he doesn’t forget the look of glee that shines from Sparrow’s face. Before this, she had only ever seemed to wear an expression of polite interest or blank calm so it’s thrilling to hear a genuine laugh sound from her small frame.

It lasts for only a brief moment as Lissa swiftly intervenes with a, “Don’t encourage him, Sparrow!” but when Sparrow meets Chrom’s gaze again, another smile, this one more secretive, blossoms on her face. She hides it with her hand, unfortunately, silently giggling to ensure Lissa didn’t turn and scold her again and Chrom feels oddly warm as they continue their march into the bitter cold. 

> **iv**

Chrom is returning from taking a small breather from the celebration following their win in the tournament at Regna Ferox - these sorts of parties had never been his speciality - when he runs into Sparrow. Or, rather, Sparrow runs into him.  _ Hard. _

He catches her as she sways back, instinct helping him to keep her from collapsing, and when he looks down at her he sees her heavy lidded eyes and puzzled pout. He realizes she’s had more than her fair share of alcohol and moves both hands to her arms to steady her. He goes to speak, to see if she needs help, when her eyes close and she’s leaning forward, cuddling into his chest. 

Chrom finds himself rather bewildered by the interaction - Sparrow had almost always held herself in quite tight so  _ this _ is completely out of the blue - and is unable to do much more than stare down at her in vague shock and amusement. (She’s small and  _ cute _ and Chrom finds himself wanting to keep her in his arms for longer than he should; something in him yearning to protect her.)   

Her left hand lifts to close around one of the straps on his chest and she nuzzles forward more, with an annoyed look starting to furrow her brow. He’s about try and ask her again if she’s all right, but it’s then she manages to properly open her eyes. 

She blinks, slowly at first, the hand on his chest slowly dragging down as if investigating where she is. Deciding he doesn’t want to startle or embarrass her, Chrom softly calls her name to which she responds with a very sudden jerk back. 

She doesn’t speak right away, they instead spend a few awkward and quiet seconds staring at each before she seems to fully realize where she is. 

“Oh. Chrom. Good night.” She says finally, in a monotone fashion, stepping around him and continuing on her way, leaving the prince to watch her go even more mystified. He’s not entirely sure what she thought he  _ was _ , but he still watches her turn the corner with a huff of laughter, shaking his head.

(The next morning comes quickly and while she doesn’t seem shy or to remember their encounter, she does ensure there’s a certain degree of distance between them for most of the march home.)

> **v**

Chrom’s exhausted. Though he knows they have little time to waste and a long march awaiting them, fatigue is starting to claw deep into his bones and he’s not sure how to evade it. He tries to keep it in, so neither his Shepherds nor his sister realize, but it’s becoming harder to dodge Lissa’s worried looks and constant tugs. 

(“Maribelle’s going to be okay, right, Big Brother? We’re going to make it on time, right?”)

He can see his sister flitting about in his peripherals and quickly shifts his gaze to the door in a selfish attempt at avoiding her. Some Shepherd’s have already finished packing and while most make it out the door unbothered, Chrom watches as Sparrow approaches a meandering Vaike in order to shove a steel axe into his hands and forcibly remind him of Miriel’s earlier threat. 

“I never forget-“ Vaike starts, evidently offended at this “special treatment” and Sparrow quickly finishes his statement for him. “‘You just don’t always remember’. Yes, I  _ know.  _ Now start helping the other with supplies, since you seem to have very little else to do.”

Vaike sputters a bit but when he catches Chrom’s eye, perhaps for backup, Chrom makes sure to give him a “no nonsense” sort of look and swing his head to indicate he should get moving. Vaike, of course, gives a low grumble but he does comply. Sparrow also swings her head and upon meeting Chrom’s gaze, makes a sympathetic face before approaching him. 

He briefly worries he’s not hidden his fatigue but when she reaches him, she makes no comment, for she is most likely as exhausted as he, and simply offers him a soft and reassuring squeeze of his right arm. Though she doesn’t speak, Chrom finds her gentle touch and tired smile is all he needs before she moves past him in order to corral Sully and Stahl back to where they need to be.

The fatigue is still settling into his bones, but Chrom feels better after the reminder that he isn’t alone. 

(“Don’t worry, Lissa. We’re not going to let anything happen to Maribelle. I promise.”)

> **vi**

They make it a fair distance into the mountain that stood between them and Maribelle in one night, stopping only when Sparrow nearly walks off a cliff. The terrain the following day is mostly flat, so Chrom keeps ahead with Frederick to scout out the front and ensure his sister’s safety. He hardly has the time to worry too much over Sparrow or anyone else before the designated meeting ground is in his full view and he’s pausing in his step, allowing them some time to prepare for the meeting before arriving. 

It seems the Shepherds are just as distracted as he, as it’s not two seconds after he’s stopped that someone is slamming into him  _ hard _ . Before he can even turn to question them, a small hand is pressing against the centre of his back and Sparrow’s speaking in the most petulant manner Chrom has heard from her yet. 

“While I’ll gladly follow your back until my dying day, I really wish I didn’t run into it quite so often.” 

Chrom knows his Shepherds are devoted to him, even if uncertainty plagues him from time to time, but it’s rare for them to speak of it, and he finds his face warming as he slowly turns to face a pouting Sparrow. Her expression swiftly transforms into polite respect when she notices him watching her but that soon morphs into outright curiosity as she peeks around him to survey the land that could easily turn into a battleground. 

Though her attention is focused past him, Chrom finds himself stuck on her face, her words echoing loudly in his head. 

_ Until my dying day.  _

She’s not been with them long, yet Chrom can hear no deceit in her words. Her loyalty to him is already so intense and as they move into battle and beyond, Chrom finds himself realizing there is little he wouldn’t do for her as well.

> **vii**

Sparrow’s facial expressions were not very… big. Chrom learns this as he starts to return her earlier attentiveness. But, he supposes he should hardly be surprised as everything about her seems to be small. Her smiles were rarely nothing more than a small quirk of her lips and any other emotion is generally only displayed through a slight widening or narrowing of her eyes. And even that is usually hidden by the mask like calm she seems to prefer showcasing. This discovery quickly leads to a fascination of sorts that Chrom has for any flamboyant display of emotion she makes.

Like right now. 

Sparrow’s staring at Frederick’s back with the most distressed look of bewilderment Chrom has ever seen on a person, much less Sparrow, and Chrom can’t help but find it rather hilarious. She had been listening in on Frederick’s discussion of his morning routine with Sumia, and after Frederick had finished explaining the  _ fifth  _ thing he did every morning, Chrom’s grin had begun to grow as Sparrow’s calm expression broke apart. 

(The extent of Frederick’s self given chores still often made Chrom balk back, and he’s always known the magnitude of Frederick’s… helpfulness. Sparrow’s reaction was to be expected.) 

Frederick is currently too enthralled with his conversation to notice his extra audience, and it also takes Sparrow some time to realize she has her own. When she does finally catch Chrom’s eye, she flushes a dark red and swiftly moves herself away. 

Chrom realizes, his own face warming as he watches her go, that the colour is quite lovely on her. 

> **viii**

He’s trailing behind her, though he’s not sure she’s aware of him as she seems quite lost in thought. They’re both headed in the same direction, but Chrom’s starting to feel a bit awkward shadowing her like this. She’s usually much more attentive to the space around her, so Chrom feels a bit like he’s stalking her, which is hardly a pleasant thought. He’s about to take a different route, not wanting to interrupt any thought process she found herself lost in, when she stops rather abruptly, apparently having found her door. Chrom also stalls, more so so he didn’t run over the poor girl, and she finally notices his presence, eyes going wide. 

“Oh!” She starts, before dipping her head in a formal greeting. “Hello.” 

Chrom gives a small smile at it, reminding himself Sparrow is quite formal in her interactions with  _ everyone _ , so it would do little good to scold her on this. He’s never been one for formalities, never liking the distance they created between him and his people, and he’s especially never liked them coming from Sparrow. It feels like it closes her down even more than she already is, and Chrom desires the opposite from her.

“Are you…?” She asks, breaking him from this thought, gesturing towards the door. “I was off to the library.” 

“So was I.” Chrom lies. He’s not sure why, but he wants to stay with her, and he feels as if it  would be more awkward for some reason shaking his head and explaining that he was actually just trying to make it to the meeting room on the next floor. It’s worth it when she brightens considerably, smiling at him. A smile, he notices, that’s just a little wider than it is for the others. 

“Perfect!” She chirps before turning to open the door. She then steps back a bit and gives a low, almost teasing bow, jokingly saying with perhaps the most posh voice Chrom has ever heard, “Your  _ Majesty. _ ”  

The laugh that escapes him echoes off the walls surrounding them and it creates a rare playful grin on Sparrow’s face. Chrom makes sure to return her bow as he thanks her before they both move into the library together. 

He doesn’t end up researching anything, much happier to sit and listen to Sparrow explain her current fascination, happy to answer any question she poses him. She gives him an odd look when he has to leave without taking any sort of book, but she doesn’t comment, only wishing him a good day before returning to the numerous shelves.

(Frederick gives him a lengthy scolding for being so late to a meeting with a royal aide, but Chrom ignores him.)

> **ix**

Chrom is taking a shortcut through the field on his way to the training grounds when he spots Sparrow standing completely still and staring vacantly at the sky above her. 

It’s the second time now he’s seen her so out of touch with the space around her, so he steps in swiftly to make sure she’s all right. To relax within the safety of the castle walls were one thing, but Chrom feels his heart become anxious at her appearing so open to attacks in the wide expanse of the castle yard. 

“Sparrow?” He calls gently, not wanting to frighten her, as he takes a spot next to her. She doesn’t seem startled by his presence, her gaze flickering to him only briefly before she’s back to the cloud speckled sky. 

“Lissa told me she could see a rabbit in the clouds.” She says as an explanation. Chrom waits for her to continue, but she remains quiet, eyes trained on the sky as if it were a battlefield she could decipher. 

“Oh?” He says after some time, prompting more.  

“I’m trying to find it.” She clarifies eventually. 

Chrom looks up at the sky and the soft white clouds lazily floating by before returning his gaze to Sparrow, slightly worried. 

“She doesn’t mean an actual rabbit, she means she saw a cloud that looked like one.” He says slowly, not wanting to offend her but genuinely unsure if she knew what Lissa had meant. Sparrow’s amnesia had wiped out a wide variety of knowledge, after all, and they had discovered she was surprisingly naive when it came to the world at large. 

Sparrow shoots him a rare, annoyed glance before smoothing her face back into polite calm. 

“I know. But I can’t see anything but clouds. I want to find the shapes she sees.” She explains, her voice teetering off a bit at the end, perhaps embarrassed and ashamed at her odd desire. She seems almost petulant now, and moves her gaze to her feet, so Chrom smiles fondly at her and steps in closer, nudging her with his shoulder.

“Well, you won’t find any looking at the ground. C’mon, let’s see what we can find.” He says without judgment, hoping to encourage her back into her earlier endeavour. She meets his gaze with brief surprise before it relaxes into pure glee and she’s returning her gaze to the heavens. Chrom finds himself stuck on her for some time before he too looks to the sky. 

In the end, Chrom finds three mushrooms, Vaike’s battle axe, a cat, two flowers, and Frederick yelling at a pig. Sparrow sees  _ none _ of that but he gets to hold her hands - they’re  _ tiny _ \- when he attempts to point them out, so he counts it as win. Sparrow, after nearly an hour, eventually manages to see the layout of their first battle against the Risen in the wide expanse of the sky and when she tries to explain it out, Chrom fully realizes just how amazing she really is. 

“You see all that every time we fight?” Chrom asks, astounded. Sparrow just blinks back at him.

“Yes?” She replies hesitantly, unaware of her genius. 

“You’re amazing!” Chrom tells her and she quickly goes bright red, stammering over some sort of reply that she’s unable to make.

Chrom counts it as his second win of the day.

> **x**

She gives him a birthday present. Chrom’s still slightly reeling over originally thinking she was about to confess to a relationship with  _ Stahl _ but he’s given time to collect himself as Stahl goes over the tonic in some detail, Sparrow shyly hanging back. When Stahl goes to leave, Chrom makes sure to thank him, but when Sparrow goes to mimic the other man, he reaches forward to catch hold of her wrist and bring her back in.

“Thank you, Sparrow.” He says, squeezing her wrist in an attempt at showing his gratitude. “You didn’t have to do this.” 

Chrom had never been one for big parties or extravagant gifts, and he knew it was something many Shepherds struggled with. He had  _ tried _ to tell them on multiple occasions he had no need for presents, especially if they caused everyone such stress, but none of them ever listened. He’s still surprised to receive any this time, mostly as he himself had forgotten, too caught up in worrying about Emmeryn and the darkening circles hanging on Sparrow and the Shepherd’s eyes _.  _

“Of course I did.” She replies, apparently as startled as he. ““You’re our leader, Chrom. You’ve been working hard for all of us. You deserve this.”

She sounds so resolute that Chrom can’t help the smile that grows on his face, immensely pleased with the praise. She seems flustered at the attention, and Chrom wants to both tease her and ease her embarrassment so he tightens his hold and moves in closer to say, “Thank you, truly, it means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

It’s fun to see her acting so timid, her usual guard being worn away as she stutters over an, “Of… Of course…” 

Frederick interrupts them eventually, and Chrom ends up missing the first eight sentences his guardian speaks as he watches the girl hurry away. 

> **xi**

Chrom’s on his way to ask Sparrow about tomorrow’s route when he manages to walk in on her in the  _ bath _ . Even he’s amazed at his own stupidity when it comes to this, especially at the complete shut down his brain experiences when this, of course, causes him to catch her completely  _ naked _ . 

His intentions had been innocent, though he’s regretting them a bit now. He had been certain which route Sparrow was going to prefer, but still wished for her opinion and even found a light bounce in his step at the prospect of seeing his tactician, even if the task was so mundane.

He stalls when he notices her, at first it’s to begin the conversation, but then he notices a few things are different and he slams his head into a pole when he later remembers the next words out of his mouth: “Er, is there any special reason you aren’t wearing any clothing?”

(The pitch she manages to hit when she screeches at him to leave would have been impressive if Chrom had the time to properly think about it.)

It doesn’t take her long to join him outside and Chrom is sure he’s not supposed to feel as off balance as he is when she marches up to him, her cheeks a bright red and her hair completely mussed. (He’s never seen her without her composure cooling her appearance. Seeing her this ruffled is… intriguing.) 

While she shouts at him briefly, it isn’t long before she’s reining herself back in, her expression, regrettably, calming into its usual look. She’s thankfully rather forgiving, and decides on the route Chrom  _ knew _ she would pick, but Chrom still stumbles over eight different apologies when he tries to leave. 

(She manages to incite his fight or flight response by simply raising one of her eyebrows and Chrom can’t believe his luck.) 

When he finally manages to escape, he nearly knocks over his sister in his rush for his tent and he actually trips over a collection of boxes that Sumia had been organizing. He refuses her concern, telling her with a shaky smile he was just tired before flinging himself into his tent and his cot, everything in him burning.  

The encounter itself is one thing, but the…  _ variety _ of dreams that follow it are what cause him to later struggle with meeting the poor girl’s eyes without squawking out some sort of excuse on why he has to leave  _ immediately. _

He’s sure Sparrow notices his avoidance, but she’s apparently too caught up with other matters to challenge him on it. Chrom finds himself both annoyed and relieved. 

> **xii**

While he’s not particularly knowledgeable on the subject, Chrom is  _ pretty _ sure encountering someone while naked is not supposed to end with them hurling a wide variety of sharp objects. (This time it was Sparrow to walk in on him, but her reaction to the event was rather unchanged from the last time.) But, perhaps he just isn’t versed in the nuances of such meetings. Regardless, he hopes his next encounter of the sort goes better than this one, as he does not wish for a repeat. Soap dishes, it turns out, could be quite lethal, 

Sparrow is immensely apologetic afterwards, once she’s stopped yelling and flinging every object within arms reach. And while Chrom is a little miffed at the fact that her first reaction to seeing him naked was to throw things at him, he’s mostly amused by the entire encounter - it’s not something he shares with anyone else, after all - so he’s quick to relieve her of her worry.  She seems hesitant, as she often is, so Chrom moves in closer to try and ease her out of it. Eventually she meets his eyes and when she smiles at him Chrom feels something in his heart swell. 

He knows this isn’t the proper way of creating a connection with someone, but finds he doesn’t care, simply thrilled to have anything that tied him to Sparrow.

“It’s like we’re partners in crime,” he tells her, though he knows that’s not quite right. But he likes the word “partner”. It makes him feel like she’ll stay forever at his side.

“Partners in crime?” She parrots back before laughing and Chrom has to stop himself from doing something stupid like  _ kissing _ her. “I like the thought of that.”

> **xiii**

Sparrow’s ability to read him is almost frightening. It seems like all she has to do is  _ look  _ at him and he’s laid bare before her; body, mind, and soul. Chrom tries to plaster on a cheery facade, Sparrow having reminding him earlier than faltering now is not what his soldiers needed and not what Emmeryn would have wanted of him. 

_ Emmeryn… _

Still, despite the hard work Chrom puts into the smile that he forces onto his face when he had turned to face the tactician slowly entering his room, all it takes is one odd look from her for it to begin to fall. 

“What’s with the look, Sparrow? I’m perfectly fine.” He lies. Terribly. Chrom’s not sure why she’s sought him out this late, as he assumes most of the others have gone to bed, resting and preparing for the final battle with Gangrel tomorrow. But, he supposes he shouldn’t be terribly surprised Sparrow is still milling about, with the shadows that lay claim to her eyes he has to wonder sometimes if she ever sleeps at all. 

She doesn’t say anything right away, taking her time in quietly watching him. Chrom feels his hands twitch under the scrutiny and he’s not sure if he wants to lash out or cover himself so he roughly begins to rubs the fabric of his gloves between his fingers. Eventually, she speaks.

“You’re still allowed to be sad, Chrom.” She tells him, slowly. Patient. The facade Chrom wears crumbles immediately. 

_ Is there anything I can hide from you?  _ Chrom has to wonder and part of him wants to hate her for it. Wants to be angry with her for letting Emmeryn die when in reality, it’s only because of Sparrow that they even made it to his sister in the first place. Guilt floods him quickly and he turns from her, his back hunching over in some vain attempt at acting as a shield from her piercing looks. 

Sparrow doesn’t seem bothered by this, instead moving the conversation forward with, “Why aren’t you with Lissa?” 

Chrom manages to hold back a flinch at this question, despite her voice holding no accusations, only simple curiosity. He tries to wait her out, unsure if he wants to start falling down this rabbit hole of questioning, but when she makes it quite obvious she would not leave nor speak without him breaking their silence first, he lets out a small sigh and falls to his bed in shame, knowing he would not be allowed to shirk away from this conversation. 

He admits nearly everything to her, his worries, his crumbling strength, his panic, and anxiety. She takes it all in, and at the end, she still carries a kind smile for him and gentle comfort. 

“Tomorrow’s worries will come tomorrow, and when they do, we will face them together. Right now, the only person who needs your attention is Lissa, and she doesn’t need you to be some macho prince, she just needs you to give her a hug.” Sparrow tells him softly, her hand warm and reassuring as it grips his shoulder.

Chrom finally lets himself look up at her at this, taking in her kindness instead of deflecting it. When he properly meets her gaze, he feels his own eyes widen at the compassion hers hold, despite all that they’d been through that day. At first glance she hardly seems tired, but Chrom notices a heaviness slouching her shoulders and feels his own heart twinge in pain. 

Chrom can only imagine how difficult this has been for her, considering how hard she had worked on her plans to thwart Gangrel. To get so far only to see everything come crashing down? For her to let the guilt drag her so low she would fall to her knees before him with a whispered apology? Chrom knows she must be harbouring her own guild of emotions, yet she stands before him as if there were no other place she needed to be. 

The guilt overwhelms him again, high waves of it churning and mixing with his despair and loss and as it washes over him, he finds himself unable to hold back the arms that fly forward and entrap Sparrow in what is probably her first embrace. This isn’t, of course, how Chrom wanted to hold her for the first time, but nothing today had quite gone to plan, so he takes in a slow and shaky breath, before releasing it along with everything else. His tears are heavy and soak his face long before his first sob is released. 

He finds out she can sing, dulcet lullabies sung so quiet Chrom can’t tell if they’re in a foreign language or if her hushed voice is muddling familiar sounds. He decides it does not matter. 

Eventually his emotions are quelled enough that he can lean back on proper etiquette, though this causes him to realize how embarrassing this scene really is. Chrom does not often cry in front of people, not since he was a child, and to be clinging to his tactician like a lost one is more than a little embarrassing. Thankfully, Sparrow makes no comment when Chrom stands and finally begins to make his way to his sister’s room, though she seems to disappear quite quickly after that. There’s a hollowness that suddenly takes root in Chrom’s heart at her absence, one that wasn’t there before, and when Chrom douses his bedroom’s candle later that night, his hand pressing firmly to where his heartbeat ached, he begins to worry. 

> **xiv**

Her voice is almost lost to the marching of their feet, her words hidden within the thrum of the Shepherd’s idle chatter and their impromptu strategy meeting. 

“Our Shepherds will be fine, Chrom.” She tells him, perhaps in response to some emotion painted across his face that he couldn’t see, and the words echo loudly in his heart and mind.  _ Our  _ Shepherds, she says.  _ Ours. _

A sense of joy expands in his chest. Sparrow had only ever called them “The Shepherds” or “Your Shepherds” before. While she is a pillar of strength within their group, she always seems to force herself to the outside. Chrom can’t explain the glee he feels at knowing she’s finally welcoming herself in. 

She also seems to be waiting for some sort of acknowledgment, her eyes still on him, filtered with light concern. Chrom gives her a relieved smile and nods, “I know. Thank you, Sparrow.” 

She returns his smile, small wrinkles forming at the corner of her eyes that let Chrom know her cheer was real, before something behind them catches her attention and she’s turning away. There’s a spark of possessiveness that spikes in him suddenly and Chrom feels a bit like a spoiled child when he latches onto Sparrow’s arm before she can complete her turn. 

Her attention is back to him immediately, concern overtaking her previous joy, and Chrom knows he has no actual reason for demanding her attention, besides petulance, so he finds himself slightly pink and fumbling over an apology of ‘forgetting what he was going to say’. 

The look she gives him lets him know she didn’t quite believe him, but Chrom’s immensely pleased when she decides not to push the matter, though he does have to silence the pampered brat within himself that tries to tantrum at his tactician turning to Vaike in order to answer his earlier question. 

(Lissa, thankfully, provides a welcome distraction, although Chrom wishes it wasn’t her loud and unabashed laughter when he trips over a dip in the road and covers himself in sand and dust not fifteen minutes before they are meant to meet Gangrel.)

> **xv**

It’s what they all hope to be their final campaign in this dreadful war, and Chrom has never felt calmer. He knows what he has to do. He knows what they  _ will _ do and with Sparrow and his Shepherds at his side, he knows there is little chance he will fail. 

The battle is still fraught with hardship, taxing as it drags out every shred of strength the Shepherds have. But, eventually they become the victors. Chrom is the one to finish Gangrel, with Sumia at his side, but Sully is the one to finish off the final mage and when she does, the Shepherds quickly erupt into a loud cheers as they run to embrace each other. Chrom walks with Sumia towards them for a few steps, but he stops when he reaches Sparrow, who had been a small ways off, while the pegasus rider rushes forward to meet with Cordelia and the others. 

Sparrow doesn’t join the others either, turning to face him instead after he sighs with relief, “We did it.”

When Chrom returns her gaze, he’s struck with several realizations all at once: his first war is over, Sparrow looks like an absolute disaster, and Chrom’s never wanted to kiss someone more in his life.

Her hair is filled with tangles, dirt smeared across her cheekbones, and her left arm is cradling her right side due to an injury Chrom will make sure he hears about later. ( _ After  _ Maribelle or Lissa has attended to her, of course.) Despite this, and the fact her cloak is singed and falling of her right shoulder, Chrom finds that she is the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on. 

_ I never want to leave your side _ . He thinks.  _ And I never want you to leave mine _ . 

He understands it all now, the feelings, the confusion, and the telltale aches in his heart. He loves her. He loves her a  _ lot _ . 

There’s a moment of silence, where Sparrow seems to notice a shift in him, but she doesn’t question it, awkwardly swaying a bit on her feet instead as her gaze flickers down.

“We need to go meet with the Khans.” She reminds him, breaking him from his thoughts. It takes him a couple seconds to collect himself, giving his head a soft shake, but he’s soon nodding his agreement and pulling himself close to her side as they move towards the Shepherds and beyond.

She doesn’t pull away. 

> **xvi**

Chrom tells her he would have gladly died if it meant defeating Gangrel, that his sacrifice would not have been too much to give, and Sparrow returns with words that steals all the air from his lungs.

“It would have been for us!” She tells him fiercely, refusing to hear any sort of sacrificial ideation. Then she gives a small pause and a faint, “And for me.” 

Something wakes within Chrom’s chest, his feelings blossoming like a peony opening to the sun, taking root deep within him. His heartbeat races as he watches his tactician duck her head, small wisps of her baby pink hair glowing in the sunlight. She’s almost angelic. 

He knows wants her by his side forever, and he’s thirty seconds from an unplanned and fumbled marriage proposal when Vaike’s voice breaks between them, shattering the mood and causing both Chrom and Sparrow to turn and look at him in irritation. Vaike’s standing at the bottom of the hill, the Shepherds surrounding him, and they join in as he calls for them to hurry up. Part of Chrom wants to shout back, but he’s sidetracked when he hears Sparrow give a huff of laughter and softly say, 

> **xvii**

“Come on, my love, we have a kingdom to attend to.”

Chrom actually feels his heartbeat stutter. 

_ My love _ . 

Having just properly realized his feelings for his tactician no more than an hour ago, Chrom hadn’t spent too much time worrying over whether his feelings would be returned. He’s quite pleased, and rather dumbstruck, at discovering so soon that his love  _ is _ requited. 

(He had read more than his fair share of lamenting poets and their spurned love affairs to ever want to experience such things.) 

She seems unbothered by her confession, and Chrom feels, as he did when they first met, everything locking into place. She’s begun her descent of the hill they found themselves on when she seems to notice his absence and turns to him, as if puzzled by why he was not at her side.

His marriage proposal slowly settles itself somewhere in his head, but he decides to leave it out of the forefront for now. They may have been the victor, but this didn’t mean they were out of the woods quite yet. Besides, he doubts Sparrow would be leaving him anytime soon. 

“We have time.” He says, mostly to himself, giving his love a cheeky grin when she expresses her confusion as his words. He doesn’t repeat himself, or explain, as - as he said - they had  _ time,  _ so he simply reassures her with, “C’mon, Sparrow. Let’s go home.” 

> **xviii**

Chrom had rarely felt at home within the cold walls of the castle. Certainly not in childhood, when the walls constantly echoed with his father’s furious shouts, or as a teenager when the servants’ mistrust generally scattered them and the visiting nobles sneers often sent him on his own indignant rants. Even as an adult he felt more comfortable in the worn and warm rooms of the Shepherd’s garrison than his own bedroom. Chrom still rarely found in his home in buildings, leaving his heart instead with his friends and family. Finding a home within the people he loved. 

They’re closing in on the castle, and Chrom finds himself more excited at the prospect of a warm bed than at the fact he is technically ‘home’. Especially when he remembers the emptiness the throne room will bear. 

His Shepherds do not seem to bear this same struggle, and he can hear the idle chatter that began as they entered Ylisstol only increase in volume as they excitedly begin to make their way through the castle gates. 

“We’re finally back!” He hears Sumia sing out, and there’s a small cheer that joins it. Sully’s voice following after her’s with, “Thank the Gods! I’ve been dreaming of my room for the past  _ week _ .” 

More voices and conversations soon join them, but Chrom begins to tune them out, a small smile on his face, as he is simply happy to know they had all made it home safe, but a little too tired to properly handle joining in on any celebrations. 

Sparrow seems to be much the same, quiet as she walks beside him. It’s only when they properly approach and open the castle doors, that she tilts her head up and says with quiet relief, “We’re  _ home. _ ” 

Chrom nearly trips at this, not expecting such a declaration from her. He never thought they had spent enough time here for her to gain such an attachment, but he sees the obvious delight brightening her face as they all begin to move within the expansive halls. 

The castle had never become a true home to him, but as he watches Sparrow turn to him, her joy still warming her face, he wonders if he could finally make it one. 

> **xix**

Sparrow is a collection of bad habits Chrom soon discovers. They’ve been home for a few weeks now and Chrom just sighs as he finds her, for the  _ twelfth  _ time, crashed across one of the desks scattered around the royal library. He’s not entirely sure what it is she’s researching, as her answer always changes every time he asks, but he’s starting to become more and more worried. The dark circles under her eyes have never been good, but since returning from the war they’ve only gotten  _ worse _ and Chrom is at an utter loss to what could be causing them. There were no large scale battles to plan, no warlords to dethrone, hardly any brigands to quell! And yet, every night Chrom would pass the library and find her hunched over some book or patrolling the shelves looking for something new. He’s amazed she hadn’t read the entire library by this point. 

Shaking his head, Chrom quietly approaches her, her name falling softly from his lips as he doesn’t wish to risk scaring her. (One time he had woken her too suddenly and she had slammed into his chin when she bolted to attention.) She doesn’t stir, so Chrom tries again, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently shaking her. This time she makes a small sound and shifts, but she still doesn’t wake and Chrom feels a low groan coming on. He’s not about to  _ leave  _ her here, but he also doesn’t want to wake her from, what he hopes, is a restful sleep, so he’s a bit torn on what to do. 

Debating his options, he remembers there’s an empty room not far from the library they leave prepared for unexpected guests. Deciding Sparrow fits the bill quite well at this point, Chrom closes in on her, hesitating, before awkwardly sliding his arms under her legs and around her shoulders. Her brow furrows slightly at this, so Chrom pauses, not quite sure what would do if she were to wake, before she relaxes back into sleep and Chrom lifts her properly into his arms. 

He cradles her in close as he exits the library, nodding awkwardly to a newly arrived servant to douse the candles. While the servant simply nods and goes to work - they hesitate briefly when they spot Sparrow in his arms - Chrom still feels his heart picks up speed and his face flush, suddenly quite embarrassed about the whole thing. It’s not  _ suspicious _ for him to be doing this, he tries to assure himself, he’s just helping out a fellow comrade, after all. One he just happens to be in love with. That’s all.

He groans quietly at himself for acting so ridiculous, lowering Sparrow a bit as he does, but this action is quickly remedied when she frowns, makes a small, sad noise, and presses herself in closer, looping her arms around his neck and tucking her head in. Chrom stills at this, his face going even hotter and his heart nearly bursting from his chest, but when Sparrow becomes content with this position, her breathing evening out back into sleep, Chrom slowly allows himself to step towards the guest bedroom not three doors down.

His original plan, of course,  _ had _ been to give Sparrow a lecture on taking care of herself, but as soon as he explains  _ why _ she woke in a strange room, she becomes rather flustered. Chrom soon finds her now sleepy and embarrassed gaze simply too  _ cute _ for him to get mad at, so he offers her the room, permanently, instead. 

Frederick raises a single brow when he later finds this out but Chrom refuses to speak any more on it. 

> **xx**

Despite having a room no more than three doors away from the library, Sparrow continues in her habit of crashing in the library. Chrom’s about ready to bar her from it, but when he remembers the look on her face when Lissa had made the very same joke (total and utter terror) he finds himself instead begrudgingly grumbling curses under his breath as he gently tries to rouse the resting tactician.

It doesn’t work. 

Now, Chrom can’t say he minds too terribly being “forced” to lift and carry Sparrow the three doors that separate her and her comfortable bed, but he worries tremendously over the fact she still feels the need to work herself into exhaustion. 

“I really need to reprimand you...” Chrom sighs as he begins to lower her onto her bed, having already prepared it. She actually stirs at this, though this could be from Chrom’s voice or the sudden change in her position, blinking blearily into the dark before her body tenses and she’s turning to face him as he lets out a quiet, “Oh!” 

They maintain eye contact for an awkward few moments, Sparrow taking her time in taking him in, but just as Chrom goes to stumble over an explanation, he feels her body relax back into his arms, a blissful smile on her face as she lifts one hand to gently touch his cheek.

“Hello.” She chirps quietly, radiating a soft sort of innocence. Chrom repeats the greeting, keeping his voice as hushed as her’s, and that seems to be all she requires as she’s yawning soon after that, rolling over to curl into the sanctuary of her blankets. 

It takes Chrom some time to recover from this - his heart nearly jumping free of his chest - and when he finally leaves her room, he runs right into his sister, who eyes him most suspiciously. 

“I was putting her to bed!” He tells her, frantic and low, and Lissa later teases him, wondering if Sparrow perhaps fell asleep where he would find her on purpose.

Chrom feels his heart is never going to recover. 

> **xxi**

“C’moooooon, Big Brother!” Lissa whines for what could be the hundredth time - Chrom had lost count - yanking on his arm as she does so. “When are you gonna ask Sparrow to marry you?!”

“I’m…! Working on it!” Chrom struggles to explain. “These things take  _ time _ , Lissa.” 

His sister gives him an unimpressed huff, incredibly displeased with his reasoning. Chrom decides it’s best he doesn’t tell her his last attempt had ended with him fleeing from the library before she could even greet him when he had become flustered at the sound of her  _ singing _ .

“Besides, I can’t just spring this on her. I need to make sure we’re on the same page.” He continues, finally succeeding in pulling his arm out of his sister’s grip. She rolls her eyes at this, and when they’re interrupted by Sparrow passing by them and sharing a friendly greeting, which causes Chrom to flush and stutter over  _ something _ that sounds like hello, Lissa just sighs.

“Yeah. Sure you do.”

Chrom ignores his sister for the rest of the day. 

> **xxii**

Sometimes, on the nights when the moon is thin and the castle echoes with silence, or when the sun is clouded by a thick grey that promised a storm, and Chrom is left to himself, he wonders if Emmeryn ever had days where she doubted every single decision she had ever made. Something in him, his rationale, tries to say she must have - she did become their ruler at an extremely young age - but his own self doubt is too loud and volatile that he finds himself unable to hear it. 

This unease always turns into a heavy pit weighing down his stomach and today Chrom takes to pacing his room, anxiously rubbing at his fingers, to try and quell it. He can hear several of the Shepherds outside, scattered across the lawn that surrounded the castle, and hear their cheer and exuberance and he wishes more than anything to join them as they are. As he  _ once  _ was. 

He never knew how much he would struggle with being King, so he’s glad he’s managed to hold of the title of Exalt, even if it’s for a little while. He loves his people, and wishes only for their happiness, but to be in charge of it is starting to wearing him down. 

He’s in the middle of watching Sully challenge Kellam, as Sumia and Libra fret on the sidelines, to some sort of contest when he hears a soft knock at his door and Sparrow’s voice calling to him. Chrom turns to her quickly and finds himself both relieved and worried by her presence. While he knows she’s the most likely one to bring him any comfort in this mood, he’s always hesitant to voice his fears, worried he’ll sound more like a frightened schoolboy than a reigning monarch. 

Sparrow greets him as she usually does, and Chrom tries his best to put on his best show of “Nothing is bothering me at all!” but, of course, it doesn’t work. All it takes is one look of concern and a tilt of Sparrow’s head for him to start spilling everything that is drowning him. 

“What if I can’t be Emmeryn?” Chrom asks softly, his distress and anxiety spiking as his concerns come to light. He’s sitting on his bed now, gaze down with his hands strongly clasped together. He hears Sparrow’s cloak dust across the floor as she approaches him, taking the time to formulate her response. 

“You can’t  _ be _ Emmeryn, Chrom.” She replies simply, causing Chrom’s attention to snap to her immediately. “And that’s not a bad thing.” 

Chrom’s not entirely sure how that makes any sort of sense and he’s sure this shows on his face as his tacitian softens her gaze, fondness and comfort warming her following words. “You can’t be Emmeryn just as much as she could never be you. You are your own person and you can only be your own ruler.”

Chrom’s brow furrows as he struggles to take this in, though the tension in his body slowly begins to dissipate as she continues, “Besides, Emmeryn would want you to rule in your own way. You love your people, Chrom, trust in that, just as we trust in you. You’re not alone, and you never will be. You have all the shepherds behind you helping you.” 

The silence they share after this is gentle, Sparrow not pushing him to accept her words any faster than he is able. He meets her gaze a couple more times, his mouth opening to try and form words of protests, but everytime he meets her eyes and sees the faith she has in him, the words die in his throat and he remains silent. Eventually, he manages a soft, “Thank you.” and Sparrow smiles at his like there is nothing more she needed. She gives him a nod farewell, which Chrom finds odd as he’s sure she searched him out for something other than this, and when she goes to properly leave Chrom makes a strangled sound in his throat, something between a “Don’t go!” and a “Wait!”

“What if..” He starts, as, while his previous concerns have been quelled, a new one has quickly come to take its place, “What if I become my father? His blood runs in my veins.. What if I…”

Sparrow is silent for a moment before she breaks these thoughts with a calm, “Who gave you Falchion?”

“My.. My father.” Chrom replies, hesitant and not quite sure where she is going with this. 

“Your hair colour?” She asks next.

“My father..” Chrom repeats, even more confused.

“Is your stubbornness from him too?” She asks after, raising one brow in what Chrom hopes is humour as her tone stays much the same. Calm and clipped. 

“Well, yes, I’ve been told things akin to that…” He responds slowly, unsure if he wants to know where she’s going with this conversation now. She seems to sense his uncertainty, and kneels at his feet in order to catch his gaze that had fallen to the floor. 

“It does not matter who is was you gave you these things, Chrom, it matters what you do with them.” She reaches up here, closing her hands around his own. “You use your sword to protect your people. Your stubbornness to refuse any sort of idea that you can’t save someone. These things that were given to you by your father are the very same things you use to be a great man.”

She tightens her grip here, and Chrom later wonders if she’s saying to next part to herself as much as she’s saying it to him.

“We cannot choose our lineage. But we can choose what we do with it. And I’ve seen the choices you make, Chrom. The choices you  _ want _ to make. And I don’t believe you’ll ever become a man like him.”

Chrom finds himself too stunned to speak.

“Besides,” she continues, taking advantage of his silence to push herself back to her feet and pat his cheek, “If you do, I’m sure none of the Shepherds would allow it for very long.” 

It’s both a veiled threat and words of comfort and Chrom is soon laughing at the absurdity of it. Sparrow doesn’t join him in his mirth, but she does give a small smile, pleased with his mood change.

> **xxiii**

Chrom had become ensnared in his cloak after it had caught on the edge of a broken dresser pushed into some far corner of the garrison, and, having little patience for anything that day, quickly taken it - along with the straps that bound Falchion to his hip - off. He’d only been going to meet with Libra over plans to reconnect with any other of Naga’s worshippers, so Chrom knows he’s most likely not going to need it. Libra is, after all, a man of the Gods.

He’s returning from the meeting and when he approaches the table he knows he left his effects on, he’s rather bewildered to find them  _ missing _ . He’s about to call for his Shepherds, when he hears Vaike say, “Yeah! Now strike a pose!” 

Something tells him his childhood friend had  _ something _ to do with this, so he approaches the room with slight trepidation, and when he enters, he’s faced with a sight he never thought he’d ever see. 

Standing in the middle of the room, in a pose that many a hero took up in all the paintings that speckled his castle, is Sparrow. Wielding both Falchion, and his cape. 

She’s embarrassed to have been caught, Chrom can see that, and the Shepherds surrounding her are all as still as statues, locked in the position they had been in when he had entered. Although, Chrom hardly pays any attention to them. With his gaze stuck on Sparrow, he watches the embarrassment flood her face with a soft pink hue and her mouth part in order to begin stuttering out some sort of explanation. Chrom doesn’t wait to hear it.

Spinning on his heel, he marches right back out, ignoring the apologies they all begin to cry out.

He manages to make it all the way back to his bedroom before he’s flinging his door shut and desperately covering his now red hot face with both hands.    


(Sparrow rushes in several minutes later with his sword offered up to him and a flurry of embarrassed apologies. Chrom is just happy she comes in after he’d managed to stave off some of the red darkening his face.)

> **xxiv**

Chrom had never been one for sitting still. Being fresh out of a  _ war _ simply makes this habit worse. He’s relatively grateful becoming the ruler of a country kept one rather busy, but the agitation that sets in when he finds himself at ease for too long creeps in fast and found him rarely staying in any one room for long.

The aides and others become accustomed to it, following him around the castle and meeting in all sorts of rooms. Sparrow hardly bats at eye at the room he requests her presence in, although Chrom mostly finds himself knocking at her door. 

They’re having a rare meeting in his room when he spots her holding one of his old toys. It’s a wooden soldier from his boyhood, one he had found while digging through boxes searching for a scroll. He had kept it out on his desk due to nostalgia, it  _ had _ been his favourite, and Sparrow absentmindedly plays with it in her right hand as she listens to him explain his current concern with the feuding nobility. (Nothing terribly concerning, of course, but they did enjoy their ridiculous spats.) 

She agrees they should have a sit down with them, and when she goes to collect them, Chrom makes an awkward move forward to take back the tiny soldier. There’s a stuttering pause of confusion at this, Sparrow unsure of what it is Chrom is going to grab, and when she clues in, her face begins to flush a telltale pink. 

“O-oh!” Sparrow starts, flustered. “Sorry, I was going to uhm.. Take it. But you! Have it back! I’m sorry!” 

She rushes forward after speaking, the small toy soldier carefully cradled in her palms as she offers it up to him. Chrom is baffled at the idea of Sparrow, well,  _ stealing _ his old toys, so he slowly asks, “Why were you going to take it?” as he stands to move closer to her.

He makes sure to keep his voice gentle and curious, knowing the look Sparrow gains when she’s about to bolt. She becomes embarrassed at the question despite his best efforts, and ducks her head in what Chrom assumes is both shame and shyness, before quietly admitting, “I like being in your room, so I... I always tend to keep things from it…. with me… I’m sorry.”

This declaration is a bit too much for Chrom, who swears there’s steam coming from his ears now, and if he were ever to tell this story to anyone, he would refuse to acknowledge just how quickly he fumbles over his next statement of, “There’s no need to apologize!” 

She peeks up at him from under her bangs at this, perhaps equal parts startled and hopeful. Chrom knows he’s grinning like an idiot, but he can’t help that, or the nervous twitch of his hand as he awkwardly runs it through his hair. 

“Y-You can keep it. If you want. I don’t mind.” He tells her, part of him desperate for her to take it with her. She’s still red faced, and a little unsure, so she awkwardly goes to put it down, at which Chrom feels his heart break slightly, before she stalls and changes her mind, swiftly tucking the small trinket into one of the  _ many _ pockets that line her cloak. 

Sparrow’s gaze doesn’t lift far from the floor even as she mumbles a quiet, “Thank you.” before nearly fleeing the room.  

Chrom wears a “dumb grin” (so says Lissa) for the rest of the day, which is what Maribelle blames for the courtly meeting going anything but  _ well _ . 

(“You can’t smile as they air out their grievances and expect them to be  _ happy _ , Milord! My goodness…”) 

(Chrom has only minor regrets.) 

> **xxv**

“What is that?” Sparrow asks suddenly, staring off into one of the castle’s flower bushes. Chrom is still knee deep in a book on ancient customs of Ylisse, and half asleep from slodging through the tedious words, so he’s a little slow in replying to her. 

They’re holed up in a far corner in the castle’s garden, taking advantage of the sunshine the first spring like day of the year is gifting them. Sparrow is busy fussing over five separate battle histories while Chrom is fighting his way through the first of three books Frederick had assigned him before some sort of nobility come to visit. Neither are having a very easy time of it.

“What is what?” Chrom asks eventually, having dragged his mind back into working order. 

“ _ That _ .” Sparrow repeats, pointing to a rather large and incredibly fuzzy bumblebee. It takes Chrom a couple seconds to recognize the insect, it’s hiding quite happily in one of the larger flowers, and when he does, he gives a short chuckle, which Sparrow is only vaguely offended by. 

“It’s a bumblebee.” Chrom explains, “One of the various bees we have here in Ylisse.” 

“Bumblebee.” Sparrow repeats with childlike fascination as she watches the insect live up to its name, bumbling around the flowers, seeming to bump into more than it was pollinating. 

“I suppose it’s a sign Spring is truly here.” Chrom says, happy to join Sparrow in her observations. She doesn’t verbally respond with any words, but she gives a pleased hum, and they spend several minutes watching the insect hover from flower to flower.

It eventually moves to investigate them, and Chrom takes his chance to grab hold of Sparrow’s arm to calm her from reacting too violently to the gentle creature. 

“Don’t worry,” He says as she turns to him in slight concern, the bee buzzing quite close to them now. “Old Nurse Nan used to always say, ‘Mossy stones get left alone.’”

Sparrow continues to give him a look of bewilderment, now paired with a classic eyebrow raise. Chrom just grins and better explains, “They won’t attack as long as you keep calm. Besides, it’s probably just trying to see if we’re a flower.” 

“Oh..” Sparrow replies softly, and Chrom feels her relax into his hold as the bee moves in closer, before deciding they are not delectable flowers, and slowly flying farther down the garden path. 

“It’s adorable.” Sparrow says as soon as it vanishes into another collection of daffodils. Chrom turns to her, and watches the sunlight light up her hair before agreeing, “Yeah. It is.”

Several hours later find Chrom having finally finished the first bit of his homework, and he’s entering the Shepherd’s Garrison when he hears several muted and irritated explanations. 

“Hello?” He calls, his right hand twitching closer to his sword. 

“It’s Chrom!” One of the voices whispers out, from somewhere in the corner of the room and Chrom moves closer, something telling him that the voice is familiar. He follows the noises and soon discovers nearly half his Shepherds, holed up under tables and shoved into cabinets.

They all stare at each other for several silent and awkward seconds. 

“What are you…?” Chrom starts, not entirely sure if he wants to know the answer. 

“We’re hiding!” Nowi says quickly, in as hushed a voice she can manage, pressing one finger to her lips in a shushing motion before burying herself farther into Sully’s side. The two of them were pressed under a table with Stahl, and all looked rather uncomfortable. 

“Why…?” Chrom tries again, unsure if he just walked in on the strangest game of hide and seek he’s ever seen. 

“Sparrow remembered what wasps are.” Stahl explains, slightly embarrassed, mostly squished.

“Okay…?” Chrom prompts. 

“It got caught in her cloak.” Ricken finishes, huddled under one of Cordelia’s arms in a cabinet.  

Chrom decides not to ask them any more. Frederick is right. He really does need to finish all those books. 

> **xxvi**

Chrom knows Sparrow loves him. At least, he thinks she does.

He’s repeated her saying, “My love.” in his head over a thousand times. He sees in her actions and her words that she cares for him deeply and that he at least means  _ something _ to her, but, still, he worries. 

It’s been several months since Gangrel’s defeat, nearly a year since she joined the Shepherds, and only three days since Chrom’s last failed attempt at proposing. (She had been thoroughly engrossed in a book when Chrom disturbed her, but she still had the time to smile sleepily at him and Chrom had choked on his own tongue.) Lissa is getting ready to propose for him and as much as his Frederick cares for him, his Guardian has begun to sigh rather heavily every time Chrom asks him to help practice. 

“What on earth is stopping you?” Lissa asks, hanging off his bed upside down as he works through another list of grievances sent to him by an outlying village. Chrom ignores her, hoping she’ll get bored, but she turns herself over and continues to stare at him for five whole minutes until she prompts him again with, “Well?” 

“I told you, Lissa,” Chrom sighs, “These things take time.”

His sister just huffs.

“Yeah, well,” she starts, finally pushing herself up and off his bed. “If you take too much time, someone else is gonna snatch her up, you know.” 

Chrom seriously doubts that. Not that Sparrow isn’t someone many would love to have as their wife, but for the fact he knows his Shepherds are aware of his feelings and wouldn’t dare do anything stupid like try and propose themselves. At least, he hopes not. 

“I heard Flavia once say that she’d take Sparrow in as her tactician any day.” Lissa says quietly as she slowly makes her way to the door. Chrom stills at this, before turning to look at his sister in both vague concern and annoyance. She just shrugs at him and hurriedly goes, “Just a thought.” before dashing out of his room. 

Chrom can only groan, his hands rubbing harshly at his eyes, before he makes a valiant attempt at going back to his work. He lasts for a few minutes before Lissa’s words take to repeating themselves incessantly. Forcing his chair back, Chrom stands and marches out of his room, hoping that a walk will clear out these ridiculous worries. 

He’s passing the library when he spots Sparrow, and though his nerves are ready to eat away at all his insides, he approaches her with a flushed face and awkward greeting. One that she returns with only a brief spell of confusion. 

“Where do you see yourself in the future?” Chrom manages to ask, uncharacteristically timid. He supposes he’s allowed to be, her answer will determine whether or not he finally finds the courage to finish his proposal. She catches on, squinting a bit at him as she tries to figure him out. He feels his hands twitch. 

She smiles when she decides on her answer, telling him, “At your side, I hope.” to Chrom’s complete and utter joy. He’s read of this, in poems and fables, the feeling you get when your love is ignited, but he decides no organization of words had ever properly conveyed the adoration he feels in this moment.

“Good!” He grins, his laughter and happiness practically spilling from him. “I mean. Great! I mean… I’m, I’m glad we’re on the same page!”

He fumbles on his sentence a bit, too many emotions all vying to show themselves first. Sparrow only laughs, as if laughing at the silly doubts Chrom had been plagued with, before nodding briefly and bidding him goodbye, having made an earlier promise to Sully. 

Tomorrow, Chrom promises himself as he watches her go, a bright smile on his face and relief softening every sharp angle in his body, tomorrow he will finally propose. 

> **epilogue**

His proposal does not exactly go to plan and Sparrow ends up breaking his heart several times more than she already had before she finally relents and accepts his confession. 

He had been hurt by her before, hearing someone tell you your only option is to sacrifice your sister is not something that becomes easier to hear depending on the person, and also thrown off guard, he still feels the sharp pangs of jealousy whenever he sees her laughing at something Stahl has said, but he finds none of that compares to frigid feeling of betrayal and panic that overwhelms him when he goes to begin his proposal, only to have Sparrow breezily interrupt him with, “I think you should ask Sumia.” 

And that’s only the beginning.

After he rejects her entire  _ list _ of possible suitors, she begins to back away, her body locking into a defensive stance, and there’s a look of terror in her eyes that Chrom doesn’t understand. While Chrom is feeling his own spike of fear and anxiety, something tells him it’s very different than hers. 

She seems absolutely oblivious to Chrom’s feelings and Chrom finds himself baffled. He thought  _ everyone  _ knew of his fondness for her. But, it seems, with the look Sparrow gives him when she stutters over her next question of, “Th-Then who, Chrom?” it appears that everyone knew  _ but _ the object of his affections. 

He manages to get in close to her as he tells her she’s the one he wishes to marry, though she continues to act like a frightened animal, and Chrom tries to be gentle as he catches her arms and brings her in closer, hoping she’s only thrown off by his proposal, not completely rejecting it. 

“The council wouldn’t like it.” She says weakly. She seems so small in his arms and Chrom has to stop himself from fully enveloping her in a hug. He wonders if they’re the ones who convinced her she shouldn’t or  _ couldn’t _ marry him and a low growl sounds in his throat. 

“The council does not decide who I love. Nor will I let it decide who I marry. Emm always wanted me to follow my heart, and my heart is leading me to you.” He tells her fiercely, desperate for her to understand the depths of his devotion. He wonders if she’s close to accepting it, but before either of them can find out, Sumia unwittingly interrupts and Sparrow flees. 

Chrom tries to follow her, Sumia flashes him a quick look of panic and pity before she too dashes off, but the chill that overtakes his body at her absence freezes his mobility and he’s left stranded and alone, short, ragged breaths being forced into his lungs as he begins to realize how  _ badly _ this is all going. Frederick ends up finding him, most likely with Sumia’s help, hunched over his bed with his head buried in his hands. This is not how this was supposed to  _ go.  _

“Milord?” His guardian calls gently, “Is everything all right?” 

“She ran away.” Chrom tells him curtly, voice slightly muffled. “I proposed and she  _ ran away. _ ” 

There’s a stretch of silence, where Chrom knows Sumia and Frederick share a  _ look _ , but Chrom ignores them both to press his fingertips into his eyes, attempting to subdue any emotion hoping to shine from them. Eventually Frederick must send Sumia away, as Chrom can hear lighter footsteps hurrying from his door as heavy one make their way to him. 

“Milord?” Frederick asks, and Chrom feels like he’s ten years old again. 

“Yes, Frederick? What is it?” Chrom knows none of this is Frederick’s fault, but it’s hard to keep any sort of anger out of his tone at this point. 

“I don’t think there’s a Shepherd here more devoted to you, and more in love with you, than Sparrow.” Frederick says, uncharacteristically soft. 

“Could have fooled me.” Chrom mutters bitterly, although a hint of a childlike whine persists in his voice, perhaps brought back from such an unexpected rejection.

“I also think,” Frederick continues firmly, ignoring his tone, “There’s no Shepherd more out of touch with their own emotions.” 

Chrom just stares at him.

“Sparrow is our tactician. She is a creature of  _ logic _ . While I’ve seen her to have enough of an understanding of human emotions to properly navigate the world, when it comes to her own…” Frederick sighs at this, as if pitying her. “Did she tell you ‘no’? Or did she just run off?”

“She just…” Chrom begins, hesitant to explain. “She thought I was going to marry someone else. She  _ planned _ for me to marry someone else…” 

“I believe Sparrow just needs to understand the situation.” Frederick says, attempting to bring him some calm. “She needs to realize your true feelings. Then she can give you a proper answer.” 

Frederick is right, of course, but for once, Chrom is happy about it.

He sets to pacing his room when Frederick leaves to find the tactician and goes about his plan in his head. He realizes he never  _ did _ properly confess to Sparrow, which is usually the first step in a marriage proposal, and runs over the words in his head, trying to get them down perfect before she arrives. 

He ends up simply going for the easiest route and telling her, “I love you.” the moment she walks in. She looks like she wants to run all over again. 

Eventually he manages to figure out where she’s coming from, (“I’m not what’s best for you.”), make his own attempts in learning her true feelings, (“Let me hear what your heart wants, Sparrow.”) and he is able to keep her safe in his arms. 

Their first kiss is not the  _ best _ but Chrom is immensely relieved when it still brings Sparrow onto his side and eventually elicits a soft confession of love from her as well. 

When they wake the next morning, Chrom swears he’s never seen a smile more beautiful than the one Sparrow wears as she happily goes, “Good morning, my love.” He knows she’s hiding something, to have such a visceral reaction to a love confession is telling of that, but he also knows they have their whole life to figure the rest out, so he gives her a smile just as fond, and gently brings their foreheads together.

“Good morning, my love.” 

**Author's Note:**

> WE DID IT!!!   
> will I ever write a fic until 10k again????? god I hope so I'm so tired...  
> I didn't think this would get so long and then I hit "6k" and was like "fuck" sO  
> I hope you enjoyed it! ;v; I wanted to do the proposal from chrom's pov but I'm glad I didn't that would have been HELL but I did enjoy thinking of cute ways they could fall in love....  
> Chrom was very difficult for me, but I did my best and I hope you had fun reading this!! ;v;  
> which was your favourite number? I like the bees one.


End file.
